Chapter Nine
Juliet
I woke up warm.
Not the normal kind of warmth from blankets and a cozy room. This was heat pressed against me, steady and human. A solid weight at my back and across my middle. For a second, I didn’t move; I just breathed.
The air smelled faintly like laundry detergent, leather, and clean soap, and the kind of male presence that didn’t disappear when you opened your eyes. My lashes fluttered as I adjusted to the light coming through my curtains.
And then I saw it.
A wall of tattooed chest. My brain hiccupped, reset, and caught up.
Asher.
He was on his back, shirtless, the covers pushed down to his waist, ink wrapping across his skin in dark lines and shapes that looked rougher in daylight. My cheek rested against him, and my arm was slung over his torso like I’d claimed the spot without realizing it.
His arm was locked around me, heavy, possessive in the best way. Warm like a furnace.
I blinked twice, taking stock.
I still had my pajama shirt on. Soft cotton, slightly twisted at the hem. My pajama shorts were still there, too. Nothing felt off. Nothing felt like I’d been stripped down or moved without knowing.
My body relaxed another inch. Okay. So I wasn’t waking up to regret.
I was waking up to… whatever this was.
I shifted slightly, testing. Carefully. I tried to slide my leg out from under the blanket and ease away without waking him.
His arm tightened immediately.
Not sudden. Not aggressive.
Just firm, like a seatbelt clicking into place.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low and rough, like he hadn’t fully surfaced yet.
I froze.
His eyes were still closed.
“You’re awake,” I whispered.
“Mm,” he murmured, tightening his hold again like he was making sure I stayed put. “Barely.”
I tipped my head back just enough to look up at him. His face was relaxed in sleep, stubble shadowing his jaw, and his hair slightly mussed. He looked… softer like this. Not less dangerous. Just less armored.
“Do you know you’re in my bed?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, eyes still closed. “Should be. That’s where I fell asleep.”
I blinked again. “That’s… not where you fell asleep.”
That got one of his eyes to open slightly, like he was amused. “Yeah?”
“The last thing I remember,” I said slowly, trying to pull the foggy edges of last night into focus, “is you staying. And you were on the couch. Like… you said you would.”
His mouth twitched. “I was.”
“So how did you—”
“I heard you,” he said, and his eyes opened fully now, locking on mine. Alert. Present. “You were having a bad dream.”
My stomach tightened. “I was?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice calm. “You were moving around, breathing hard. Talking.”
Heat crept up my neck. “Oh my God.”
“It’s fine,” he said immediately, like he could read the embarrassment trying to claw its way up my throat. “I came in and tried to wake you.”
“And?”
His expression softened, just a fraction. “You wrapped your arms around me and wouldn’t let go.”
My face got hotter. “I did not.”
“You did,” he said, tone steady and certain, like he was stating facts about weather. “You mumbled something I couldn’t make out. Then you clung to me like I was the only thing keeping you on the planet.”
I stared at him.
He didn’t look smug. He didn’t tease.
He looked… matter-of-fact.
Like it had been an obvious choice.
“So you just…” I waved vaguely. “Climbed into bed with me?”
He shrugged, his arm tightening again like he was proving he still could. “You weren’t letting go. I wasn’t going to peel you off me and toss you back onto the pillow like you were a problem.”
That hit something deep in my chest. I swallowed. “That tracks,” I admitted quietly. “Because… I sleepwalk.”
His brow lifted. “You do?”
“Not all the time,” I said. “But when I’m stressed. Or if I have nightmares. I’ve done it since I was a kid.”
“Anyone ever tell you?” he asked.
I nodded. “My mom. Jenna’s heard me talk in my sleep once when I crashed on the shop couch during Mother’s Day.”
Asher’s gaze stayed on my face, focused. “You have bad dreams often?”
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t trust him, but because saying it out loud made it real. “More than I’d like,” I admitted.
He didn’t push. Didn’t ask what they were about.
He just held me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
For a minute, we stayed like that. Me pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped around me, and the morning light spilling across the room like it didn’t know it was stepping into something fragile.
Then my brain fully caught up.
The brick.
The window.
The sound of glass exploding inward.
My body went cold all at once, adrenaline jolting through me like my nerves remembered before my mind did.
I pushed myself up slightly, enough to look him in the eyes. “Asher.”
His expression shifted immediately. “Yeah.”
“Was it really Chrome?” I asked, voice quieter than I meant it to be. “Or did you just assume because of yesterday?”
His jaw tightened. Not anger, just certainty. “It was Chrome,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“I saw the cuts,” he replied. “Two bikes. Same style. Same patches. Same coward move.”
My stomach twisted. “So… they really did that.”
“Yes.”
I sank back against him, but my thoughts were spinning now, fast and sharp. “Why?” I asked. “Why would they break the shop window? I’m not a Vulture.”
Asher’s hand moved slowly up and down my back, steadying. “You’re connected.”
I huffed out a breath that almost turned into a laugh. “Connected.”
“Yes,” he said like it was the simplest thing in the world.
I stared at him for a second, then let out a humorless little laugh. “I didn’t think you were drama.”
His mouth quirked slightly. “I’m not.”
“That is… literally drama,” I said, gesturing vaguely toward the window that was not currently exploding because we were in my bedroom, but still. “Enemies. Bricks. Motorcycles flying past—”
He cut me off with a quiet, firm tone. “Juliet.”
I stopped.
His eyes held mine. Calm. Clear. “I’m not drama,” he repeated. “But we have enemies. That part is real. And they’ll use whatever they can to push buttons.”
My throat tightened. “Including my shop.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”
I let out a slow breath, trying to pull my heart rate back down. “So what happens now?”
Asher didn’t hesitate. “Nothing happens to you.”
The way he said it, flat and certain, should’ve sounded like a promise too big to make. Instead, it felt like a fact he’d already accepted as his responsibility.
“Cookie and Blaze are keeping an eye on the shop,” he continued. “They boarded it up last night. We’ll find someone to replace it. They’ll stay around until we figure out what Chrome’s trying to do.”
I blinked. “They stayed all night?”
He nodded once. “Yes.”
My chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t fear. It was… something else. A strange mix of disbelief and gratitude. I’d spent the last few years of my life handling everything alone because no one else showed up consistently enough to rely on.
And now I had people who did.
Even if they were bikers with patches and nicknames that sounded like they belonged in a cartoon.
I pressed my palm to my face briefly, overwhelmed in a way I couldn’t name.
Asher’s hand slid to my jaw, gentle. “Hey.”
I lowered my hand.
His gaze stayed steady. “Nothing else is going to hurt you.”
I stared at him. “You can’t promise that.”
“I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t,” he corrected.
That was more believable, and somehow, more intimate.
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
He held me for another beat, then loosened his arms slightly, like he was giving me a choice instead of taking one.
I didn’t move away.
Instead, I rested my cheek against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
The quiet was comforting… until my brain circled back again, practical as ever.
“We have to go to the shop,” I said suddenly.
Asher hummed. “We do.”
“I need to see the damage,” I added. “I need to—”
“You need to be in control of your space,” he finished, like he already understood.
I lifted my head. “Yes.”
He nodded once. “Okay.”
I blinked at him. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he said.
“You’re not going to argue and tell me to stay home?”
“No.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why not?”
Because if I’d asked that question yesterday, the answer would have been because you’re in danger.
But Asher didn’t do the thing my brain expected.
He brushed his thumb along my cheek slowly, voice low. “Because you’re not fragile. And because keeping you locked away would make you feel like a prisoner in your own life.”
My breath hitched.
That was exactly what it would’ve felt like.
“Also,” he added, eyes still on mine, “you’ll be safer with me beside you than you will be in this bed without eyes on the street.”
I let out a slow breath. “Okay.”
He shifted, finally sitting up fully, the sheets sliding down his hips in a way that made my attention snag despite the circumstances. Tattoos, muscle, morning heat.
I forced my focus back to the problem at hand. “Coffee first,” I said.
He lifted a brow. “You’re still in shock and you’re thinking about coffee.”
“Coffee is survival,” I replied.
A quiet sound, almost a laugh, rumbled out of him. “Fair.”
I pushed myself out of bed, feet hitting the floor. My legs felt a little wobbly, but not weak. Just… aftermath.
Asher stood too, stretching like he belonged in my bedroom, and like he’d always been there. He pulled his shirt on from the floor and reached for his boots.
I paused at the door, glancing back at him. “Thanks,” I said, voice quieter than I meant it to be. “For… last night.”
He looked up, expression steady. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I want to,” I replied.
His gaze softened just a fraction. “Okay.”
We moved through the apartment in quiet, the morning light growing brighter around us. I brewed coffee with hands that still felt slightly shaky, and Asher stood near the window, scanning the street like it was instinct.
When I handed him a mug, our fingers brushed.
A small contact.
A reminder.
This wasn’t just about threats and windows and rival clubs.
It was about the fact that he’d stayed.
The fact that I’d let him.
The fact that when I’d been scared in the dark, I’d reached for him without thinking and he hadn’t made it a joke. He’d just climbed in and held me until the fear passed.
I was still scared.
But I wasn’t alone.
And that changed everything.